


can't look at the stars (& i can't see the light)

by sundaystorm



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:20:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2601659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundaystorm/pseuds/sundaystorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only proof you have that Carmilla ever existed at all outside of your head, is a video that she left on your laptop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	can't look at the stars (& i can't see the light)

**Author's Note:**

> Not proofread because busy and no time, so editing will happen if needed.
> 
> Optional but recommended background music: Stars by Grace Potter and The Nocturnals, and Bloodstream by Stateless.

In all honestly, you thought she was going to come back.

Everything happened so fast, that you’re not actually sure if it was all just a fragment of your imagination. But you remember Silas clearly, the trips to the library which you swore you would never talk about anymore. And you remember Danny, and LaFontaine, and Perry. And spending countless of nights trying to solve mysteries together. And you miss them. You couldn’t possibly make all that up.

But you’re alone in your room now, in a house that doesn’t feel like a home anymore. And there’s an emptiness in your chest that you can’t begin to comprehend. It feels like someone took all your vital organs, scattered them all around, and then put them back together in the wrong order. It doesn’t feel right… Whole.

You can’t remember how many times you daydreamed about Carmilla simply showing up in the middle of the night and staying at least for a couple hours. Because yes, you put it together after a while, that the weird black cat thing that you kept dreaming about wasn’t a dream at all, but it was Carmilla all along. It makes you feel silly, because it was so obvious. But you also feel guilty, because you never got the chance to thank her for all the things she’s done for you. She even left for your own sake, your own safety.

A barely audible sigh leaves your lips and you get up, walking towards your room’s window and opening it; just in case tonight she decides to come.

.

She doesn’t, and you feel emptier than ever.

.

It’s a sunny summer day, and you agreed to go fishing with your dad just so he would stop worrying about you. He’s been…better. Somehow, your reluctance to leave the house made him stop telling you every five minutes that you need to be safe, and he’s being less of an overprotective dad, and acting more like a  _normal_  dad. He’s trying, and you appreciate it.

"Hey pumpkin, are you hungry? Or tired? We can go back if you want to get—”

You shake your head, interrupting your dad mid-sentence. He doesn’t push, but you can see the disappointment in his face. You barely said a word since you two got there. Actually, you barely said a word at all since you got back home.

He understands though, your dad. Being a journalism student had its perks, because you could come up with stories on the spot and make them as believable as possible. So when you told him that you needed to take a break from school because it was draining you to the point of getting anxiety attacks all the time, plus the fact that you had the worst roommate ever and they wouldn’t allow a change of rooms, he was okay with it. He seemed to understand that your mental health was more important than your education, but you still had to reassure him that you were only taking a semester off and you were going to transfer to a closer University.

Only half of it was a lie.

You let out a sigh and force a smile; you wish you were stronger, if only to make your dad happy.

.

It’s funny, though, because you were always good at handling tragedies and endings. In a twisted way, you have your mother to thank for that — because when it was just you and your dad left, you were the one who tried to keep him sane and took care of everything. You were forced to grow up from a young age, so you guess you were bound for a breakdown sooner or later.

.

The only proof you have that Carmilla ever existed at all outside of your head, is a video that she left on your laptop. Carmilla made sure to delete everything on your channel, and she explained that it was for the best and so that no one could track you down if things didn’t go according to plan.

You still don’t know what that plan was, but you’re safe and alone, so it must be working.

And it’s stupid, you know this, but you can’t bring yourself to delete that video. It isn’t long, and she’s quiet at least 80% of it, but what if you forget? What if you don’t remember what she looks like anymore in a couple of months? It took you a while to figure out exactly why that upset you so much, the fact that she just left without as much as a proper goodbye, and the fact that you probably won’t see her ever again. But…it makes sense now.

You watch the video over and over. It’s painful, but you enjoy it. Somehow the scars remind you that it was real. No, you couldn’t possibly forget if you tried.

You feel a lump in your throat, and you force yourself to swallow hard and take deep breaths. This is probably the worst idea you’ve had since you came back home, and it’s pointless, but you still have to try. You may be broken, but you’re not a quitter.

The small red light lets you know that the webcam is recording, so you simply stare at it for a few seconds before letting out a sigh, and swallowing hard again.

"Carmilla… If you’re watching this…please, come back."

.

The next day, your dad comes back home and he says he has news. You haven’t seen him since that morning when he left for work, so you look up from your book, tilting your head slightly and furrowing your eyebrows.

"He doesn’t have a name yet, but I found this little buddy abandoned and I couldn’t leave him there. What do you think?"

He reveals a cat. A black cat. An injured and dirty black cat.

You stare at your dad for a second, trying to figure out if he only brought a stray cat home because you were lonely, or because he genuinely felt bad for the feline. A mix of both, you decide.

Putting your book aside, you take a few steps closer to them but stop abruptly. Not all cats look the same, but you swear that this one looks exactly like Carmilla. Which is ridiculous.

You shake your head, turning around and heading to your room. No. You can’t have a breakdown of some sorts in front of your dad just because a  _cat_  reminded you of the girl you’re…

"I don’t care. You name  _it_.”

The words will probably hurt your father. You know they will, because he seemed so excited. But you can’t bring yourself to even feel guilty about it.

Later that night, when you get up to get a glass of water, you see the creature sitting in front of the door, just staring at it. If it didn’t remind you so much of Carmilla, you could even find it amusing.

You casually open the front door and wait until the cat is outside to close it again. The lights are off, but as you hurry to the window to make sure that the cat is actually leaving, you can see the dark shadow walking away and not looking back.

It blows your mind how alike Carmilla and this animal actually are.

By the morning, the cat isn’t back and your dad asks if you’ve seen him. You casually say “not in the past couple of months”. And it’s a bad joke that he will not understand, but you laugh anyway.

.

You don’t forget, but it starts to get better. Slowly. You find joy in the little things, the small victories, and breathing doesn’t feel as hard anymore. Your dad’s been helping you too, and you make sure to reward yourself every time you achieve something — no matter how small it is.

You spend an evening stargazing, and the first thing you do when you get home, is post another video that you don’t know if it’ll reach its destination.

"You ruined stars for me, you know? You and that stupid smile of yours and your poetic words."

You try not to sound bitter even if you are, but you don’t think your expression gives anything away. Things are better, but you think you forgot how to properly express emotion anyway.

"It’s not comforting. You were so, so wrong. It makes me feel insignificant, like I don’t matter. There’s a whole universe out there waiting to be discovered and explored, and we’re all here just living our boring lives." A chuckle. You look away from the camera, wondering why you’re even recording this, why you can’t let  _her_  go. “But life wasn’t dull when you were around, was it? Chaotic? Yes. Dangerous? Definitely. But you also made things interesting. And you pushed me to be better, in your own unique way. And then you left. How am I supposed to go about life now? There’s so much more than meets the eye, and having a “normal” life,” you actually air quote that, and you’re sure that you’re dripping bitterness now. “I can barely look at the sky anymore because you’re everywhere. Why would you do that? Why would you ruin stars for me? …Why did you leave?”

Your dad walks into your room without knocking, and you laugh at the irony that even now, every moment you and Carmilla share is interrupted by someone.

.

You’re not expecting it.  _Her_. It’s been week since you recorded your last video, and you were doing fine. You figured that she deserved a goodbye too.

_"It’s okay, I forgive you. Goodbye."_

It wasn’t much, but it was all you could do.

But Carmilla is sitting at the edge of your bed, in your house, and you’re not sure if you meant it or not.

You’re not sure if you feel immensely happy, extremely angry, or just sad.

She’s real. She’s there. She’s back.

She’s  _home_.

"You saw the videos," you state in a quiet voice, shutting the door closed behind you. Your dad isn’t home, but you still don’t want to risk anyone seeing her.

She nods, and god, does she look beautiful. “I saw the videos.”

"So…" You stand there near the door awkwardly, feeling self conscious and  _small_. You don’t want to let her know that she still has some kind of power and effect over you, but if you do so much as breathe or move an inch, you know you’ll end up yelling and throwing things at her.

Because you want to know—you  _need_  to know—why she left and why she’s back. Is she enjoying this, seeing you at your absolute worst?

Is she even going to stay?

"I just wanted to apologize. My behavior wasn’t the best. I shouldn’t have—," she shakes her head. "I should have waited for you before I left. To properly say goodbye.”

You feel faint, because you can’t go through this away, you refuse to go through this again.

"No." You simply shake your head.

"I’m sorry?"

"You’re not apologizing only to leave again."

Carmilla gets up but you quickly take a step backwards. It’s not that you don’t want to be close to her (although just being in the same room physically hurts you) but you just…need some time to be angry.

"You’re underestimating my ability to ruin people’s lives. And I’m sorry I ruined yours, I truly am, but I am not sorry for leaving. I did that for you, do you still not understand that? Do you think it was easy for me?"

_Yes_ , you think.

"The thought of my mother taking you just because I was attached to you haunted me every day. Someone  _died_  because I couldn’t keep my feelings in check once. I’m not letting that happen to you, Laura. You don’t know the things Mamam is capable of.”

No, you don’t, and you don’t want to find out either. But you wouldn’t mind die trying if that meant Carmilla got to stick around. Stay with you.

And your name coming from her lips shouldn’t make you feel like this, weak but warm, and you hate her for it.

"And do you  _not_  understand that I don’t care? I would have fought a war against her if I had to. For my friends, for you…”

Your voice cracks at the end, but you hope she won’t notice.

"Your friends are safe now. You’re safe now, so you don’t have to worry about my mother. As long as I stay away from you, you don’t even have to think about fighting wars or whatever is troubling you. You’re good. You’re safe."

How can someone who’s been around for centuries still not see the most obvious signs?

You let out a sigh, defeated.

"So what, you’re just going to leave now? You crawled out of whatever hole you’ve been in for the past months just to tell me you’re leaving  _again_?”

"I wanted to see you. I missed you."

It’s cliche, but you feel your heart sink and your knees tremble; you have to remind yourself that you’re supposed to be angry. If you’re angry, it’ll hurt less.

"Don’t do this, please."

"Do you want me to leave?"

You don’t really have to pretend, because you  _are_  angry.

"No, Carmilla! I don’t want you to leave, that’s the problem."

But going from bitterness to sadness is so easy when you have that something you’ve been wanting for months within arms reach, and yet you can’t do anything about it.

"I am sorry. I really do lo—"

You interrupt her, shaking your head. “Don’t,” you can’t bear to hear her say that when she's so willing to leave you again. “Don’t you dare finishing that sentence, Carmilla. You have no right…”

She hesitates but takes a step closer, and when you don’t move, she closes the distance between you two.

Her hands feel cool against your skin, but soft and soothing. And when her thumb brushes against your cheek, you close your eyes and release a shaky breath because for a second, you feel alive and whole again.

Carmilla’s lips brush against yours gently, but she pulls away too soon, and you wonder if this is what love is supposed to feel like. Painful in the most beautiful way.

"Don’t forget about me, cutie."

You want to say that you won’t, that it’s impossible because she’s carved in your memory. But she’s gone before you notice, and you’re standing in the middle of your room completely alone.

It doesn’t hit you until that night when your father mentions how nice the sky and the stars look and you start sobbing uncontrollably.

.

Your father helped you moved in to your new dorm. The new University is okay, and your roommate barely speaks to you. It’s a nice change of scenery, all too normal, but you’re sure you’ll get used to it in time.

You’re sure you’ll get over  _her_  in time.

But everything still reminds you of her, and you can’t help but wish on every shooting star that one of these days, she’ll miss you enough to come back.


End file.
